


oh darling, hold me close

by techieturnover



Series: On Purpose [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Pre-Canon, Shared Clothing, Tumblr Prompt, thomas hamilton - mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/techieturnover/pseuds/techieturnover
Summary: Miranda and James try to keep Thomas with them as they leave London
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton, Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton, Miranda Barlow/Thomas Hamilton
Series: On Purpose [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665331
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	oh darling, hold me close

Miranda, by some miracle, isn’t prone to seasickness. 

She’s grateful for that as she and James lay in their rocking bed, on a strange ship, leaving everything they have ever known and loved behind. Leaving Thomas behind. She fights back the tears that threaten at the thought of Thomas and the loss they have all suffered. She is angry at everything and it rots in her gut, but James doesn’t deserve it right now. She knows that he would take it personally - lying just inches from her as he is. 

Still and barely breathing, she knows he is replaying the day over and over again instead of resting, just as she is. 

She worries about him. She has seen what was coming - as much as she had tried to warn James and Thomas, she wishes she was more surprised. Her only reconciliation is that James is still here with her. That she hasn’t lost both of her men. But James ...

James has been completely destroyed by losing Thomas. He has said barely two words since they’ve boarded the ship and she’s caught him looking over the horizon back towards London too often. She worries what the loss of Thomas is going to drive him to. Drive them to, because she is in this with him. She is determined not to abandon him, not to abandon the man that Thomas loved so very much. Her own feelings at the moment are so tangled in grief that she is trying to ignore them - but she is determined not to let Thomas down a second time. 

A shuddering breath from beside her draws her attention, but a second later James is still again. There is too much space between them. A Thomas sized hole - not left intentionally but perhaps unconsciously. So that they can pretend he’s merely still awake, still writing, and they are merely waiting for him to come to bed.

Her thoughts drift to her bag and the items contained within as she stares at James’ bare back in the light from the moon and stars outside. Some of them are James’, most are hers. One or two are Thomas’ - things she had secreted away that had belonged to them and not the estate. Trinkets, writings, clothing. It’s the last that holds her attention now and she makes up her mind, pulling the blanket back and getting out of bed. James looks over at her as she ruffles through the items. When her hands land on a pouch she pulls it out, removing the shirt from within it. 

“What’s that?” 

James is sitting up in the bed, his hair falling messily. Even in the dim light off the water she can see his eyes are rimmed and red. She gets up and hands the shirt to him and when he recognizes it he looks back up at her. He looks so small and lost, so unlike the confident man of just a day ago and she wishes for the hundredth time that she had been wrong about their trajectory. 

“It’s his. I thought it might help both of us sleep tonight.” 

She slips back under the covers as James puts the shirt on and tries not to notice when he holds the collar to his nose. When he lays back down he faces towards her, rests an arm around her shoulders. The sleeves of the shirt are too long on him, and his fingers don’t fully reach outside of it when he curls them in her hair. She buries her head in the crook of his neck and the mix of smells - his and the faint reminder of Thomas - makes her breath come easier. 

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t answer. If she rests just so, doesn’t move and keeps her eyes closed, she can almost imagine the ghost in the room is real. She wants to hold onto that, as long as possible. It’s the smallest grief she can allow herself, as she hears James’ breathing even out.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my tags on this post: https://im-the-punk-who.tumblr.com/post/612509926700597248/princessprouvaire-princessprouvaire-a-n-y-w-h
> 
> because i couldn't stop thinking about it
> 
> because i'm a SAP i might do a small series of vignettes in this vein and also because coronavirus


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